The bellboy came back. “It’s Brinmore Rooms,” he said. “If Jerry isn’t glad to see you, don’t tell him where you got the information.”

I gave him a fifty-dollar bill. “Could you,” I asked, “bring me forty-five dollars in return for this?”

His face broke into a cheerful grin. “Surest thing you know,” he said. “I’ll be back with the forty-five in five minutes.”

“Bring me a newspaper, too,” I told him.

When he returned with the forty-five dollars and the newspaper, I wrapped up the corset-belt and walked out of the hotel. I went to the Union Depot, sat down on one of the benches for a few minutes, then got up and walked away, leaving the newspaper-wrapped parcel on the seat.

From the branch post office I purchased a stamped envelope and a special delivery stamp. I addressed the envelope to Jerry Wegley, Brinmore Rooms, tore a page of newspaper into strips, folded some of the strips into the envelope, sealed it, and took a taxicab to the Brinmore Rooms.

The Brinmore Rooms consisted of a door on the street level, a flight of stairs, a little counter with a call bell, a register, and a fly-specked pasteboard placard with the words “Ring for Manager” printed on it.

I rang.

When nothing happened, I rang again. After another ten seconds, a thin-faced woman with a gold-toothed smile came out to see what I wanted.

“Special delivery letter for Jerry Wegley,” I said. “You want to take it in to him?”

“No, he’s in 18, straight down the hall,” she said shortly, folding her lips back down over her gold teeth and slamming the door of her room behind her as she turned back.

I went on down to 18, knocked three times gently on the door, and got no action. I tried to insert a knife blade along the side of the lock, and decided after five minutes that I was a failure as a burglar. I walked back down the threadbare carpet to the counter with its bell and register, lifted up the hinged gate in the counter, and looked around on the inside. There were a half dozen bundles of laundry, three or four magazines, and a pasteboard suitcase. I kept looking around and finally found what I wanted, a nail with a big heavy wire loop hanging on it. A chain hung from the loop, and the key dangled at the end of the chain. I took care to keep the chain from jingling against the wire as I took the key and walked back down the hall.

The passkey opened room 18 without any difficulty.

The bird had flown the coop.

There was some dirty underwear on the floor of the closet, a sock with a hole in the big toe, a rusty safety razor blade, and the stub of a lead pencil.